Our Castle
by Joule Sweet
Summary: Takes place during the Ashley arc. Hotsuma races to save Shusei but is unprepared for what he'll find.


**Notes:** Thanks to Plug for inspiring the narrative with his fic, Sleep Ends Everything. I don't own the characters. I should also stop writing so much Hotsuma and Shusei but I can't help it that they're the best. Eh. This one is not a happy story, but I still like it.

* * *

**Our Castle**

_For you_  
_kneeling in the hot sand, wincing_  
_glare against the sky_  
_For you_  
_fingers shifting grains, drawing water_  
_higher, stronger_  
_For you_  
_sun setting,_  
_carefully, hands trembling_  
_sweat pours_  
_For you_  
_let me see_  
_everything_

_Shusei..._

Animated toys fell like useless, dead leaves when the sting of his blade swung through, clattering to pieces on the ground that were quickly stomped and left behind. Even the stronger familiars were nothing in the face of his endless rage. The wounds soothed with light, he was once again an unstoppable demon. Monster. He relished the stain.

It seemed like the nuisances were endless, coming at them from all sides. 'Protect Yuki' was fighting the desire to press forward at any cost to reach his partner. He tried to juggle the weight of both tasks, wielding his weapon with the precision of a master he wasn't. The temperature continued to rise. When was it going to stop?

Where the hell was Shusei?

Even within the scalding, with layers of clothing wrapped upon his body, he began to catch the chill of the night's wind, biting him to shivers. His hair whipped against his face like iced branches, wet on his cheeks. They were inside the castle but everything was still cold, freezing cold.

Hotsuma tried to make himself invincible, to wrap himself in the shackles of his curse and release the barrier he had placed on his raw emotions. He could feel free to hate, free to bring the frenzy of his negative upon these enemies. They weren't human, weren't anything that deserved more than a swift ending. He would bring their oblivion.

Yuki didn't look frightened by his unyielding intensity, shading his face with his sleeve when the fires became too bright but staying close. Hotsuma appreciated his strength in the back of his mind, the part that was observing everything quietly. Easily ignored, but not forever.

They reached the final: large, impossibly heavy doors guarding the last possible asylum. Another chattering toy flew in from behind to distract, but its fate was swift debris. It was Yuki whose hands reached for the door's handles and pulled, brought the path.

Hotsuma and Yuki walked forward in tandem like marionettes, carried on invisible strings by thin and cruel hands. Things were happening just as she had planned. Hotsuma's eyes adjusted to the new surroundings and focused.

Saw the lines of forever were finite.

_[there! it's finally done!]_

Shusei looked down at him with a mixture of pity and bewildered affection. Hotsuma's face felt puffy and large as he raised his eyes to his friend, leaning back heavily against the stone edge of the stairwell. The bruises meant nothing; he might even feel a little proud of them. He had resisted the urge to bring his darkness upon the bullies, and so their victory had been assured from the beginning, as had his.

Looking at the clean, sharp lines of his friend's face, Hotsuma felt a smile that never reached his lips. His partner was always the perfect one, immaculately clothed, limitless brilliance, everlasting gentle. Whoever had decided to throw them together was surely a hopeless fool, but that wasn't anyone he would ever meet. He didn't even think he really believed in fate.

Shusei's arm extended, hand reaching for him. He spoke soft lines that didn't mean anything, all of the significance captured in his thoughtless gesture. Hotsuma shifted, awakened agony and clasped Shusei's hand, allowing his body drawn upward. When he was righted on his feet and able to balance on his own, he let go, tentatively testing his strength with a casual step forward.

"I can have Takashiro bring the car," Shusei said while flipping his cellular phone out of the pocket of his school jacket.

Hotsuma stopped him before he could press anything. "No way. This is nothing. We're walking." He accentuated his words with a couple of awkward steps before settling into a slow, steady rhythm that accommodated his body's exploding hurt.

Shusei slipped the phone away, looking at him sideways before falling in line with Hotsuma's snail pace. "At this rate, you won't have time tonight to finish your homework when we arrive home."

"Guess you'll have to do it for me," Hotsuma said with a grin, grateful for his friend's innate ability to steer away from unpleasant topics. He didn't want to get into the whys of his current plight, beaten and aching. Shusei already knew of his damnable need to be the protector of the weak. Even though he was the most unfit for the task, he couldn't help but stand and take the fall for those who could break when he was already broken.

Shusei let out a small breath of annoyance, his smile a mysterious puzzle. "I have my own to do, you know. And being a year ahead of you, it's _much_ harder."

"Puhlease," Hotsuma scoffed, not buying the obvious deception. "It'll take you less than fifteen minutes to finish, and you know it."

"At this slow rate, I may only have fifteen minutes before bedtime comes," Shusei said with a sly raise of his eyebrows. Hotsuma saw the bait and still took a bite.

"No one's asking you to stay here. Go on ahead if that's what you want." He wished he could be positive beyond all doubt that Shusei wouldn't take him up on the offer. He wanted to believe that Shusei would always choose _'by my side'_ rather than anywhere else, even when it made sense to leave.

_Even when he had those useless girlfriends, he came to me when I asked. That was why I could stand them. But I couldn't stand them, their silly obsessions with crap, the cute toys they always threw at Shusei, demanding he parade around like their goddamn fairytale prince. When he finally ended the charade, I'd snort "finally," and he would just sit there with that same smile of his that always looks so sad._

Hadn't Shusei had a different smile when he was younger? Hotsuma's memories were cloudy, but he thought there was a grain of truth to the question. He remembered being happy every time he got to see the rare expression, doing reckless and sometimes stupid things to bring about that inverted rainbow. Every time the clouds parted, sunlight. Endless radiance.

Shusei held the same melancholic smile he was now accustomed to seeing. "If that's what you'd prefer."

Hotsuma's lips twisted, scowling for several reasons that had nothing to do with their present conversation. "It's not about what I want. You're the one complaining, right? So choose what you want to do already."

Nothing else was said. Shusei's answer lay in the idle footsteps.

[_i thought you would build it bigger_]

He decided if he was going to be a called a monster, then he was going to destroy everything. That was what monsters did, what they were born to do. He tried hard to draw all of the misery that they had thrown at him, captured inside, to twist it and inflict it upon the rest of creation. Humans were worthless, heartless, parasitic trash.

"_we have to watch. watch close."_

"Hotsuma." His own parents.

_"h-how are you feeling today, honey?"_

"Hotsuma?" His only family.

_"oh, good? that's good! do you want anything? anything at all? we can do it. just please, please don't get angry-"_

"Hotsuma, what's wrong?" His blood, their blood.

"_look, we want what's best for you, that's why..."_

**Liar!**

"Hotsuma!" Strong hands had taken him by the shoulders, shaking him out of the cage of his thoughts. He realized his hands were clenched; he was staring directly ahead at a dilapidated building he had intended to burn. Trying to bring the curse to life with the tips of his fingers sizzling hatred.

He looked at the panic of his only ally, wondering why he looked blurry. It wasn't until his face was pulled against Shusei's chest and he felt the wet that he understood he had been crying. More futility. Couldn't even hack it as a demon. Unable to obliterate human creation, unable to live amongst them. He was the worthless.

"What were you trying to do? You'll hurt yourself." Shusei worried over him too much, cared too intensely. A waste he greedily accepted.

Pressing against Shusei's reassuring heartbeat, he decided there was no other place for him. Shusei would always be there to hold him, to tell him the lies he needed to hear. _"You're not a monster. They don't understand our powers, that's all. It's not your fault."_

"You'll always stay with me?" Hotsuma asked in a pathetic crackle, voice fracturing as sobs struggled their way through his throat. He swallowed them, painful lumps, not wanting to let more weakness come.

Even back then, young age of thirteen, Shusei had perfected his methods of hiding, keeping his voice soft and neutral. "If that's what you want."

Hotsuma's tears had dried, and he was able to pull back, wanting to see sincerity in his friend's eyes. As long as there was that fact of his existence,_ Shusei's here_, he believed things would become bearable. Time wouldn't cease its flow just for him to stop hurting. They would have to withstand the rush of the waves until the ocean finally calmed. It had to someday.

Shusei's gaze was kind and serene, everything he needed. He didn't understand why it left him feeling empty. He decided it was the drab surroundings- the place he had decided to start his fiery rampage was a quiet, untraveled hovel in the outskirts of the city. He had wanted to bring the inferno to such an intense degree that the wind would pick up his flames and toss them to the places alight with noise and life he really wanted to see ash. It was too late, but that was okay.

Shusei was rock, and rocks didn't burn.

[_don't laugh! it took a really long time!_]

"I'm bored as hell. What are you doing?" Hotsuma stomped into Shusei's room uninvited as always, throwing the door open without concern of who might be on the receiving end. Thankfully, Shusei was far away from the swinging trap, sitting on the couch with the newspaper on his lap. The rest of the week's papers were on the floor at his feet. He always spent Saturday catching up on his reading.

He brought his hand to his face, pulling his reading glasses off of his nose to regard Hotsuma with a grimace. "Knocking, Hotsuma. Use it?"

Hotsuma was uninterested in his suggestion, taking a heavy seat in the chair across from him and throwing his face onto his upturned palms. His green eyes missed nothing, darting from the papers to Shusei. "The news? Who the hell cares about that crap?"

"I do this every week. You know that," Shusei replied, replacing his glasses and continuing the read the story which had been interrupted. Murders, not Duras-related. Somehow more tragic.

_There's so much darkness._

His source of light was unhappy with being ignored. He heard the shifting of clothes, heavy stomps, and a weight came down at his back. Hotsuma had decided to make room for two on the couch that was really only wide enough for one. His chin fell, uncomfortable pressure on Shusei's shoulder blade. "'Young girl kidnapped and raped in the-' who would want to read about that? How depressing."

"No one's asking you to read," Shusei replied, feeling the heat of his partner through his thin sweater. Hotsuma was always smoldering, but Shusei believed that was due more to his temperament and energy than the fire he wielded as a Zweilt. He had been a firecracker on the sports fields as a kid, and nothing changed as he grew.

Nothing but the inevitable pain of his cursed power. Shusei didn't think it was a curse, but he didn't know how to convince Hotsuma of that. Maybe someday he would finally be able to heal his friend or at least ease some of the ache. He didn't really think it was possible, but he hoped.

"Nah, but why would you want to? Let's go outside and _do_ something. I hate the suffocating inside of this damn house."

Shusei felt peace there, usually. He didn't understand Hotsuma's agitation, but he also couldn't figure out when the seed of unease had sprouted. It was easy to convince himself that he was alive in the pointless world only because Hotsuma needed him. His partner's presence and continued existence was the only thing that mattered. Yet he began to believe that the day he wanted to run away from forever was finally drawing close.

He wouldn't be able to live anymore once the fateful hour came and wiped clean everything that made him necessary. When that all-emcompassing light would shine upon them and erase every doubt, every fear, every worry that shaded their hearts. Healed the untouchable clouding Hotsuma's smile.

The words printed on the paper in his hands were meaningless, swirling lines and cryptic glyphs. He was certain it was near.

The day Hotsuma wouldn't need him anymore.

[_i can't see._ _when did it get so dark?_]

Hotsuma's thrashing in the rain, taking out his frustration on the trees, stumbling like a blind man, falling to his knees and soaking his jeans with dirt and mud. He's a complete wreck, and Yuki can't stand to see it. Hotsuma has been an enigma, completely frozen with layers of fear and uncertainty. One touch, Yuki knows, and he will see the truth of everything. The past.

_Show me_.

He hesitates. It doesn't feel right somehow, invading someone else's thoughts and prying into their darkest memories. He can't think of any other way even though his mind is racing, his attention focused solely on the hurt in front of him. Why? Why doesn't Hotsuma let himself lean on anyone else? Yuki can see the closeness between Shusei and Hotsuma, but he doesn't see them sharing the pain.

Shusei's ghost smile, Hotsuma's endless frown. Was it supposed to hurt like this between friends, between partners? Tsukumo and Toko don't seem to have any of the darkness, just blanket love and devotion. Was it different for siblings? In some ways, as close as brothers.

Yuki stalks forward, grabs Hotsuma's attention and cringes when he sees the wounds on his hands from the tree bark and pressure. His words come out wrong, causing only the usual anger and dismissal. His hand shoots out without much thought, closing around Hotsuma's wrist. He uses his power on purpose, delves into the abyss, and sees only pitch black.

_Hotsuma, too, huh? Unwanted, unloved, betrayed. Has that happened to all of us? Why is that? Are we drawn to each other because of this loneliness? Is that the bond of this clan? Misery?  
_

When Hotsuma tries to squirm away, he knows he cannot allow it at any cost. It's so simple, what a fool. Does he honestly believe he is a monster? Can't he see the things he does are amazingly selfless to the point of awe, that his shining armor is dazzling? He doesn't expect the flash fire, the charring of his skin that nearly drops him to the floor in anguish. Through the flames, the heat, the burn, he holds on.

Where is Shusei is Hotsuma's heart? He hasn't found him, yet he knows he must be one of the most important pieces. Has Hotsuma forgotten that he is never alone?

Shusei was the one who gave his blessing, who told Yuki what he must do. He refuses to let the sacrifice become a waste, and so he continues to grip tightly to the scalding limb, even when the burns change degrees and throb harder.

The fire flickers out as though blown by a wish. He cradles his injured hand in the other, forcing a smile through the angry hiss of his nerve endings. There is blackness by Hotsuma's hands on the grass, embers. He tells him the words he should already know.

Hotsuma doesn't looked healed, doesn't look any less pained, but Yuki does not expect him to. A few sentences cannot erase a lifetime of despair. He hopes he has at least started the process of healing for Hotsuma, made his hardship one load lighter.

For all of his empathy and perception, Yuki is unaware of the one who watches in the shadowed lull of the trees, blocked of the moonlight and suffering the most in the swarming dark. Yet it is not his fault, as Shusei has spent his life building stone walls around his weakness. If his pain was as loud, as obvious as Hotsuma's, Yuki would have tried his best to ease it as well.

"But who will heal your wound?"

Shusei knows very well the answer to Luka's question, but nothing else is said between them. It lies in the silence.

[_the sun set. didn't you notice?_]

It happened differently when Hotsuma tried to commit suicide. Still outdoors, in the seclusion of one of the furthest reaches of the Twilight mansion where no one ever tread, Hotsuma had decided to immolate himself. Shusei had sensed something wrong with his partner for the past few weeks, worried to leave him by himself and followed.

Shusei had not held him at arm's length, suffering the burns only on one of his extremities. He had known that would never have been enough to stop his partner's determined annihilation. Throwing himself tight, gripping him with steel, he had already decided he would not let go at any cost.

_Ahh, it hurts._

He wanted to call him an idiot, curse sense into him, make him feel the loathing that he held inside for that selfish act. He shoved aside his wants and tried to think of the words Hotsuma needed to hear, the ones to breach that sea of self-hatred and bring the realization that he was meant to live.

He practically sobbed it with tears evaporating in the blaze.

_When you do this, we can't ever be together again!_

He was going to die, choking on smoke and blackened flesh. Bittersweet.

He wasn't aware when it stopped, when it wasn't only him who was holding on with desperation. Hotsuma's funeral pyre had vanished, and he was now swept in the same arms he had believed he would never feel around him again. Hotsuma was mumbling apologies, eyes wide with terror when he saw the state of his friend.

Shusei's agony became the focal point now that the fire was gone, the seared nerves beginning to scream for his attention. He could feel the most severe injuries throbbing on the upper part of his chest, where he had been pressed the hardest against his partner.

Hotsuma's voice poured cold over him. "Shusei! Tell me you're okay. Shit. Shit! Shusei, I'm sorry, talk to me, be okay, please- Shusei!"

_You idiot. What does it look like, that I'm dead? You know I'm fine._

He cracked his lips open to speak, but smoke in his throat prevented speech and brought hacking coughs that tripled the torment of his wounds. He could only groan nonsensically, adding to Hotsuma's panic.

"The doctor! The doctor will- okay. Stay awake. Stay awake, Shusei, look at me."

Shusei wanted to close his eyes, sleep. Sleep to end everything.

_I'm so glad you're okay. So glad._

He was shaken- groaning with each movement that was forced of his body. Hotsuma was still talking, frantic and stern "Look at me. Look only at me. _Don't_ sleep. Don't even close your eyes, not for a second."

His pupils dilated, face tilting as Hotsuma picked him up as gently as he could and carried him through the grounds towards the mansion. The march of time became a line of meaningless beats, no, that was Hotsuma's racing heart, the beautiful melody that had almost quieted. He watched the stars catch strands of Hotsuma's golden hair, remembering when it was a darker brown than his own. Nonsense. Why? Why remember?

He felt like he had to get one more thought out there to flutter softly into that pulsing heart, so grateful for the sound. "Hotsuma." His voice was as flat as the ash in his throat, but there was nothing to soothe it. He struggled on. "You're the reason I live."

He heard the unspoken in the tense shrug of Hotsuma's shoulders, the hard lines of his jaw. _Are you kidding me? I just nearly killed you_.

His words were quick and to the point. "That's my line, Shusei. Now don't try to talk anymore. Just rest, but stay awake, okay?"

Injured but alive, Shusei could not begin to comprehend the pain of his scars that yawned like a bottomless chasm in the future, twisted impossibly in the threads of time. Blood and tears, such things were certain. If he had known, he might have tried to find the strength in Hotsuma's arms, then.

Instead, he could only close his eyes.

[_ah, __i see it now. it's really nice._]

Yuki had come, their saving grace, the only light that could heal their mortal wounds. The boy was supposed to be on his way soon, brought to the Twilight Mansion to live with them, close so that his power could be used. Shusei had no idea what Takashiro was planning, what his ultimate goals were.

Hotsuma had been agitated ever since they received the news at one of Takashiro's meetings. He was positive that he would dislike this Yuki as he had the one in the most recent past, both of their hot temperaments clashing to hurt each other in turn. It went against the very flow of their spirits, the yearning desire to protect Yuki, the lifeblood of their clan.

Shusei didn't feel anything other than that same blanket annoyance. He didn't feel relieved or even quietly happy like Tsukumo across the table. He had started to believe that Hotsuma was finally okay, settling into the mundane of high school life with surprising ease. He still kept his distance from his classmates most of the time, but sometimes he put himself out there, playing basketball with the team or staying after school for extra tutoring.

The instant Takashiro told them, _Yuki is coming soon_, the priceless deception crumbled like sand in the pounding water. The tormented lines returned to Hotsuma's face, and Shusei realized they had never really left. He'd merely been able to cloak them behind the everyday.

_When did my eyes stop seeing you?_

They were working on another troublesome case at the station that evening, gruesome Duras handiwork that seemed to be happening more frequently. Tsukumo's mouth had worked itself into a concentrated frown as he closed his eyes, his ears picking up on the thoughts and feelings of a million unconcerned people crammed into small space. Shusei returned his focus to the crystal ball, pored through the mists of reality that dwelled there, seen only by his eyes. Nothing.

Tsukumo was looking at him. It seemed ancient, like the gaze had been there for awhile and he hadn't noticed it at all. Shusei flashed puzzlement, lifting his shoulders slightly. "What is it?"

"Things are getting darker." The obvious tumbled from Tsukumo's lips, storms in his gold. "For months now."

Shusei agreed, nodded his head. "I've seen it, too."

"Toko and I saw Yuki yesterday. He's the same as _she_ was, maybe- I don't know- maybe even brighter. Kinder."

Laugh was hollow. "I can hardly remember anything about her. It was long ago." He remembered everything.

Tsukumo was troubled. "I always felt that, but- things have been returning. Just lately, I remember some of the- darkness. Light. Her light was always so pretty. Comforting. I just feel it sometimes. I can hear it."

"Light doesn't have a sound," Shusei argued logically, ignoring the twist of his insides at Tsukumo's soft revelations. The boy didn't mean to cause any injury with his innocent words, but he couldn't possibly understand what Shusei was feeling. There was no way he could know, because he had made sure to hide.

Tsukumo's lashes fluttered, the peaceful countenance of his face a tempting facade. Shusei almost felt safe there, like he could actually open up and share some of his troubles. Tsukumo was the only other to project such a dangerous illusion. Shusei shut the doors, locked them, smile etched in ink.

"Do you think we're ready for the battles ahead?" Tsukumo had stopped focusing on everything else, looked curious and eager to hear Shusei's honest reply.

Nothing else was said between them. Shusei's answer lay in the clouded sepia.

[_really? you really think so?_]

Nervous. Hotsuma wouldn't admit it, hardened bravery in the face of the danger and led Shusei through the streets, looking for the enemy Takashiro had sent them after. Nothing greater than a Mid-Villain, he had promised. Still felt worried. What if Takashiro was wrong? They were definitely no match for an Opast. Might not even be one for a Mid-Villain.

Toko and Tsukumo were already comfortable battling together, but it wasn't a fair comparison. They had more time, born siblings, and Toko had even remembered more of their pasts than she was supposed to. Hotsuma wondered if his heart was making up for the lost time, attached as he was to Shusei. The moment they met, he instantly broke apart and mended back together, stronger. It was a strength that carried weakness on its back.

"Do you think Takashiro wants us to lose?" Hotsuma asked his partner, shuffling his feet at an unhurried pace down the concrete. He dodged an errant cyclist and glowered back at the careless rider before turning back to Shusei. "So he can come out and tell us we need more practice or something like that?"

"I think he wants us to win," Shusei replied with his usual practicality. He didn't look worried at all, and Hotsuma wasn't surprised. Shusei was already masterfully in control of his abilities. _He_ couldn't even let himself go completely, not knowing if he might again hurt innocent people. "He needs us to be strong."

They were unprepared for the blow that came from above, spinning energy that exploded between them and flung them apart. Hotsuma skidded painfully on the gravel, shredding the fabric of his pants and tender flesh of his leg. The smoke hadn't yet cleared from the flare, but he wasn't going to worry about that. He called upon his sword, forming the ring upon his finger into the twisting black metal hook. His hands closed around the handle, trembling.

He heard his partner's voice, too low to understand but recognized the brilliant prismatic light as it expanded in a dome over their heads, sparkling pavilion to split the dimensional walls. He was impressed by the swift response, the savvy of his partner. It was a foregone conclusion then. _You don't have to hold back anymore._

But he did, he saw that when the enemy came into focus. The Duras had invaded a human host, a young girl who couldn't be much older than their eleven and twelve. Her eyes were no longer soft or human, blank shells that funneled malicious intent. He could at least be assured it was not an Opast, since those had their own forms. Still, a Mid-Villain was not going to be an easy victory.

The girl's smile widened to inhuman lengths, teeth flashing crimson in the afternoon luster. "Zweilts. So young, too. Your people surely underestimate our power."

Darkness furled in her hands, coming from nowhere to form swirling death orbs. One for each of them. Panic swelled in his throat like crumpled paper, nearly preventing his exclamation for Shusei to be careful. He was already racing, legs pumping as fast as his aching muscles would allow, praying that he be the one to suffer the blow instead of his partner.

"Hotsuma, what are you-? Attack it!"

Shusei was the defensive. He wasn't worried about being hurt, but it was all Hotsuma could feel concern over. "I can't! Too fast- Shusei!"

He caught the expression through the swirling gray, choking mist. Shusei's placid face was contorted with dread, utter helplessness and terror. It wasn't easy for him, either. He felt foolish. They were nothing alone.

Turning in what seemed slow motion, the warp of clock hands around him, he looked at the enemy through the clear, saw the utter contempt and emptiness of the Duras. Called through the depths of nether, given shape by the intentions of the necromancer, merely an effigy of the void contained within Reiga.

His hands stilled on the handle, turning the blade's blunt edge to the creature.

_I won't kill her._

"Hotsuma!"

He pushed forward, watching as the balls of darkness came closer, propelled by the momentum of the Duras' strong pitch. He dodged the first, grazed the second and felt the skin of his arm rip open like peeled fruit oozing fresh juice. The sharp throb of pain was nothing, unconstrained, carried along the waves of the ill intentions spoken at his back, to his face. _monster, incinerator, terrifying, devilish, vicious, heartless_

"_I'm scared! Get away, I'm-!"_

His weapon caught her in the chest, harder than he had intended. He heard a crack, felt for sure he had broken something important, but he succeeded in bringing the monster down from its place floating in the sky, crumpling onto its back on the pavement. He held his blade's sharpness to the girl's heaving throat, breathing heavily, dry eyes.

What now? He couldn't lower the blade or the human host would be killed as well, the captive soul having no body to return to. Echoes from the past pulsed over him, settled gently into his muscle fibers and commanded his actions. He felt the hands of his other 'selfs' close around his, drawing his sword up and away from the shivering girl. A dozen voices poured out of his mouth as one. "Now, Shusei!"

"I release you." Shusei's words held the same power of multiple, his orbs floating through the air to create a dozen light-swords that pierced the possessed girl, drawing the demon up and into the air, sealed in an unbreakable cage. Hotsuma looked up in disbelief, but at the same time it was a familiar and comforting sight.

Ghost fingers brought his arms forward, the sword poised for attack. He felt all the fires of the world inside of his chest, clawing, thrashing. He soaked his words with hate, licked the edges of his lips with lighter fluid. "Burn, demon!"

The sword spit flame, shattered the cage and incinerated the one inside of it. His fire raged so hot and high that it battered Shusei's protective barrier, straining at the walls for release. He heard the parting scream of the Duras, soothed himself with its final agony.

He felt Shusei by his side, calming wind.

Turning, their eyes met, and identical smiles broke on the horizon. The design was complete, hereafter.

[_yes, but- the tide's going to wash it away soon. it's too close to the water_]

Ashley's voice was surprisingly gentle, wearing threads of sentimentality like shining ribbons. He could almost make himself trust her words, let himself fall into her clawed hands and finally let everything subside. He had spent the past countless weeks, months worrying over the state of his existence. Whether or not he was needed. It was nice to finally have an answer.

_You don't need me anymore, after all._

God's light was brighter than they could fathom, Yuki's words and endearing smile all of the salve needed for their deepest aches. He had seen Hotsuma contain his fire, watch the jewels sparkle with regret at the hurt he had caused, lips brushing the careless burns. His own flared to life, memories of the only time he had been essential.

_I stopped your death, but he- he's the one who will give you life._

He felt his body's life processes slowing and came to the sick conclusion that they were actually going to cease. It was like falling into sleep with the knowledge that there would be no awakening. Death sentence, shot in the arm, numbing fluid ending life. Ashley's words were the incantation, the poison, spreading, unending. Even if he cried out now. Even if he wanted it to stop.

This would surely be the end. He knew as surely as the other Zweilts, the death had to happen a certain way, carefully controlled in Takashiro's hands. The right words must be chanted, the specific pattern established for the future life. Who knew what his next life would hold without that spell to bind him to the destiny of Zweilt guardian? Without Hotsuma?

He wouldn't even remember him, would he? Though every cell in his current body lived and breathed the essence of his partner, his soul might be able to shake free of the shackles and start new. He didn't want to think so, but it was possible.

But he still believed it to be for the best. He convinced himself that Hotsuma would be better off without him, even in the countless futures that lay ahead, ignoring the doubt that could not be completely erased. There was more truth to the opposite.

_This loneliness can only be filled by you._

Just because _this_ life had been ruined beyond salvation, there could be light in the future. It was also possible.

He tried to save that dangling thread, reach out and pull it tight, but it was too far. He would have to use his voice to weave a promise in the distance, tell himself that he was dying this time to give it life, meaning.

The reason he had been born, had lived, had struggled through the pain of a life with no certainties, it was fine now. Healed.

Moonlit promises against the roar, nothing. _"If that's what you want."_

The mask slipped for one instant and bitterness.

_You don't know what you want._

"There, see, you can't move. You want it to end, don't you? Let it go, everything you care for. Isn't it better to be without?" Ashley was still murmuring, acting like the questions she asked were things she wanted to know.

He couldn't speak, but there was no need. Shusei's answers lay in the quiet.

[_that's not fair! it took so long... i don't want this!_]

Tsukumo couldn't find him, couldn't hear his presence in their world. How was that possible if Shusei still lived and breathed? Tsukumo wouldn't lie, not about something so serious. He had to be out there somewhere. Hotsuma believed he would feel something break inside if Shusei ever died somewhere, alone, without him. The unseen chains binding them would fracture and shake the core of his being.

With such strong bindings, he battered himself blue for not noticing when Shusei had begun to wear his impassive mask. In his recent memory, all of the emotions he used to see painted on Shusei's face were absent, replaced by that carefully crafted smile. Weeks, months, years? How long?

It was too late to ask his partner the questions thundering through his mind. Too late to spend another night laying in bed beside him, convenient lie '_too tired, can't move_' and use the silence of the night as a backdrop for his inquiries. Too selfish, leaning back upon the soft pillows of Shusei's sleeping breath, taking the presence by his side for granted. Promises were not guarantees.

_I wanted to believe you_.

Every time he had asked Shusei to stay, he had acquiesced without a single complaint, perhaps too quickly in hindsight, mechanically. He had programmed himself to listen and comply with Hotsuma's demands and requests, crafting himself into the person he thought he needed to be to follow such orders. Too late, Hotsuma could see that he had been doing everything wrong, building it the wrong way, artificial strength that would crumble to the hollow interior.

Weathered rocks and beaten stones, was that all he had to work with? It would never be enough.

Sick with the knowledge that he could not follow his desire to scratch and claw at the walls of the world until he finally found his partner in the depths of darkness, Hotsuma buried his head in his arms, wishing that sleep would come to end everything. With every close of his eyelids, unwanted thoughts and memories jolted him aware, prevented rest and peace. The unease brought by Yuki's return paled in comparison to his current burden, the very fabric of his existence torn and frayed.

It was too easy to dwell in the uncertainties of the tenuous place Shusei and himself had stood since just before Yuki's return. He had seen his partner's hesitance, the awkward silhouette, the unchanging guise. What he had neglected to do was to probe, to simply ask his partner what was wrong and refuse the false answers, digging deep until the truth was uncovered.

_And I won't hide, either. Not this time, Shusei._

His mind was empty of the happy memories, nothing coming through the endless dark to pacify. He thought about calling for Yuki so that he could bask in the artificial light until it was enough to grant him rest. Pretend that would be okay.

Even trying to make himself believe such a plan would work, Hotsuma felt the monster tearing its way through his chest, stomping his heart like tissue paper, holding his most precious memories in its hands like pandora boxes. Someday, he would open every single one with Shusei at his side, watch as every feeling took flight and lit up the sky like novae. He would look at Shusei's face then and finally see that the mask was gone, leaving him with radiant, exquisite wonder.

_Don't you believe in me?_

He would fight with the entirety of his soul to see that smile again, the real smile, the smile denied him for far too long.

There was no comfort in his resolve, so he resigned himself to sleeplessness.

[_we can build a new one together, can't we?_]

"I never see you cry, Shusei. Why not? Don't you get hurt?"

"Yeah.."

"Then why? Sometimes it helps, crying."

"I just don't. Need to, I suppose."

"I guess you look down on me, then, y'know, since it seems like I always... Damn tears."

"If it helps you, it's fine. I'm always here, you know, if you need."

"Heh, that's right, isn't it? I know I ask you a lot. I guess I can't stop worrying- gah! Your feet are like ice, put 'em back down!"

"There's enough space, move back."

"Was here first."

"It doesn't matter."

"Does so. Anyway, I worry about it, even when you tell me you won't leave."

"I'll say it a thousand times more, if that's what you want."

"What do _you_ want, Shusei?"

"I'm okay like this."

"Like this? What's that mean?"

"You're right, Hotsuma."

"Don't dodge the question! I feel like you never tell me-"

"I asked you a question, too."

"No, you didn't! Don't try to trick me! I can see right through it. Geez, your skin really is cold..."

"I already answered you. As usual, you don't listen."

"I heard, I just don't believe you. There must be something."

"Believe what you want, Hotsuma."

"You're so frustrating. Ah, you used to tell me everything."

"Really? Because it feels like we've had this conversation before, and you never heard a word I said."

"Better to not hear them than to have them never spoken. Don't hide anything from me."

"I'm not."

"You're comfortable like that? You can put your feet up, you know. There's enough space."

"I'm fine like this."

"I _told_ you the stars are nice, didn't I?"

"You're right, Hotsuma."

"I think without you here, they wouldn't shine as bright. Ah, what am I saying? They'd be the same. Still, you won't leave, will you? I won't have to worry about it..."

"I'll stay. As long as it takes to build it."

"Huh, what's that supposed to mean? Are you trying to distract me with nonsense again?"

"Don't you remember that promise we made?"

"What's this, all of a sudden? Don't stray-"

"I want to know. Do you?"

"Uh, which promise? When was this?"

"A long time ago."

"Probably not. My memory sucks, you know."

"I see."

"What was it? Something important?"

"No. It was nothing."

[_you promise?_]

Hanging like limp seaweed caught on branches, hair scattered, clothing shredded and torn, lashes gossamer half moons of black on pale skin. He didn't understand _what_ he was seeing at first, couldn't imagine what tortures had been inflicted on his partner he had not been there to stop.

_I'll never forgive... for this... Takashiro!_

When the Opast appeared in swirling lace and frilly Lolita clothes like a mirror of the dolls she commanded, she laughed maliciously at their frivolous attempts. Told him Shusei was dead.

_"That Zweilt..."_

He wouldn't believe it. No matter how hard he stared at Shusei, the boy wouldn't move, didn't give any indication that her words were lies. He ordered Yuki to tend to his partner, but the anxiety that had opened inside of him prevented his clarity in battle. This was mocked as well, and he tried to shove it aside and bring the anger that had been building ever since Tsukumo gave him the news that Shusei was gone.

_"He wanted to die!"_

Yuki affirmed, looking weak and tragic, sympathetic tears already beginning to pool.

Time stopped at last.

Memories crashed into him from everywhere, boxes ripped open and spilling the invaluable treasures over the bank of the endless shore he walked alone. He saw the struggles they had suffered, the times he had turned his back only to feel the reassuring hand fall against him, unspoken strength. He saw his castle crumble under the weight of the pummeling waves, salty tears of ocean water changing sweet with the soft promise pounding in his ears. He saw the moment things had changed irrevocably, the one time Shusei's sadness had slipped past his notice and begun to pile quietly into a mountain, higher than the sand, stronger than the stone.

He heard the beauty of Shusei's piano, long fingers gently turning the keys into a soft and pleasant song. He heard the small humming at the back of Shusei's throat that he never seemed to notice that he _always_ did when he was playing the piano. He heard the stars crackling and burning in the depths of space, carrying soft light spikes to glitter in Shusei's eyes when they opened, watching him. The song was peaceful, but it was also sad. Hotsuma heard this now, too.

Hotsuma felt the strong brush of fingers against his back as a comb ran through his hair. Shusei was straightening him up for school as usual since he always hurried through the boring processes of hygiene and grooming because he was ready to _move_. He felt tranquil hands come upon his shoulders and press stability into his soul, no, just adjusting his crooked collar. He felt the winds of the ocean swirling around them landlocked, reminding him of the promise they had made that day. The most inconsequential and vital.

He caught the scent of kindled cinders in the air, but there was no fire to bring them. He tasted acrid water as bile rose. Everything horribly made sense.

_I thought only of you!_

Thoughts were private, personal. Even if the totality of the mind was focused on a singular idea, a concept, a person, if the thoughts were never given form in reality, they meant nothing to one who might believe they _were_ nothing, unneeded, never considered. He had believed they both already knew the truth, but it must have slipped beyond his partner somehow.

"Wanted to die?" Hotsuma believed it, he really did, because he had failed Shusei and left him feeling like he had no other choice. Yet he hurled the opposite at the Opast, even choking on never-ending vines and regret hammering his insides. "Shusei would never!"

The Opast was smiling, genuine and cruel. His lies amused her, but he continued to say them. He used his voice of God to scream the reality he wished he had created, the castle he wished he had built by taking his time to do things right like he had promised. Because he remembered it now.

_It was supposed to be ours._

With a frantic look to see if his words had stirred consciousness to his partner's sleeping form, he saw that the mask had slipped off, shattered, and Shusei's expression was finally, finally peace._  
_

_i'll build it better_  
_Shusei!_  
_Open your eyes_  
_I need you_  
_higher_  
_I'm weak_  
_Shusei..._  
_You were always_  
_stronger_  
_Without you here_  
_I'm_

_

* * *

_[_if that's what you want_]


End file.
